


Words Unspoken

by blue_jack



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mention of torture, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-18
Updated: 2010-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/pseuds/blue_jack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seemed so stupid now that he’d never admitted how he really felt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words Unspoken

They were coming for him. He knew it. He stumbled, almost falling to the ground, and clenched his teeth against the pain. His ribs were cracked, if not broken, he was sure of it; the question was just how many. Not that it mattered now.

It was supposed to be simple. Diplomatic mission. Yes, you should really join the Federation. Your strategic location would be most helpful to us, and we don’t like paying huge taxes every time a Federation ship docks here. In and out, no fuss.

Tell that to Carson and H’Luva.

Carson had been killed the first day, to show the terrorists were serious; H’Luva, the third, when the Federation had refused to negotiate. But they’d made an example of him first. Even if the Enterprise was able to get his body back, they would have to do a DNA scan to make certain it was him.

And Jim, they hadn’t even started on Jim yet. His ribs, his broken arm, the cuts that leaked blood and other fluids, the set of bruises around his throat like some sort of grotesque necklace, those had just been to keep them from getting bored.

He rather hoped that when they did catch up with him, they would be so enraged by the death of the guard and his escape, that they would kill him on sight. He hated to think of his crew listening to his torture, of spending the last hours of his life begging for death and having that immortalized in Federation history. The Enterprise would record it – they would have to in case the terrorists made any further demands or leaked any information. He hoped he could stay strong until the very end, but the terrorists had broadcasted H’Luva’s death, a process that had taken almost nineteen hours. Jim had forced himself to listen to every second of it, the last thing he could do for H’Luva. He knew that when – if – his time came, it was…very likely he would beg.

But he couldn’t focus on that right at the moment. What would come would come, but now, he had to keep going, get far enough out of the area that he could contact the Enterprise. The assault on the remote Temple where’d they been holding their meeting in honor of the upcoming Holiest of Days had been a feint, capturing the crew a lucky bonus. The terrorists had their sights on a bigger prize, and while they kept the planet’s and the Federation’s attention on the hostage situation, they were putting the final touches on a large-scale attack on the space port – the port where the Enterprise was docked.

The terrorists had spent two years getting ready. Even with the increased security that was sure to have been put in place, they already had too many people in critical positions. It would be a bloodbath unless they got some warning.

Jim knew he was a dead man walking. Even assuming he managed to get past the field they’d set up, they’d put a scrambler around his neck. Not even Scotty would be able to lock on to his signal, not with bare minutes to work with. But that was alright. He could still save thousands, save his ship and crew, and that…well, that was enough. More than enough.

But only if he could outrun them for a little longer. He could hear the baying of Kafor hounds now.

“Kirk to Enterprise,” he panted for the fifth time, forcing the words past his injured throat, praying they would finally be able to hear him. “Come in, Enterprise.”

“Captain!” He’d never been so happy to hear Uhura’s voice, and he could feel tears stinging his eyes. His death wouldn’t be for nothing. “Are you—”

“Get me Spock.” He was grateful that she listened, not questioning him, not wasting time asking if he was alright. She understood duty as much as he did.

It took less than two minutes to tell Spock everything he knew, every word a fire burning in his side and throat. If the rebels hadn’t wanted to taunt him with his communicator a scant meter from his cell, he wouldn’t have been able to do even that.

He continued to run, but the hounds were getting closer, and he couldn’t get a decent breath.

“Captain, Lieutenant Commander Scott is experiencing difficulty—”

“Won’t work. Scrambler,” he rasped out. It was so tempting to stop running. Every step was agony, and he thought the escape had done enough additional damage that he wouldn’t have to worry about what they could do to him much longer. His vision was blurring, and things were starting to go numb. He’d done it. He’d accomplished everything he could.

Except...except one thing. He’d done his duty as Captain, but he wanted one last thing as a man.

“It’s been…an honor…working with you…Mr. Spock,” he managed to say, wiping the sweat out of his eyes. Distantly, he realized he wasn’t running in a straight line anymore, but no matter how he tried to compensate, it didn’t help. How much time did he have left? Minutes? Seconds? “Get me – get me Bones.”

“Captain, we are attempting to—”

“Bones,” he gasped again, and even to his ears, his voice sounded weak, filled with an odd gurgling. His ribs were broken then. No wonder it was so hard to breathe, why his chest hurt so unbearably.

Bones must have been on the bridge, he realized with an ache, because he was on the comm within seconds.

“How badly are you hurt?” he demanded, and Jim’s mouth twitched. Same old Bones.

“Looks like…it’s the end…of the road, Bones,” he gasped, and it was almost impossible to keep his communicator near his mouth. He couldn’t really see where he was going anymore, and the baying of the Kafor hounds was loud in his ears.

“Damn it, Jim, don’t be a fool! We’re going to—”

“My best friend,” he coughed. He wanted to say more. He wanted to tell Bones how much he appreciated him, how important Bones was to him, how he wished he’d found the courage to tell Bones he wanted more than just friendship. It seemed so stupid now that he’d never admitted how he really felt.

“Jim—”

“Thank you,” he whispered, and he closed the communicator. Better that they not hear what happened next.

_I love you._

It was what he’d wanted to say, what he’d thought of during the cold, pain-filled hours he’d been held prisoner while he waited for his chance. But he wasn’t that selfish. He wouldn’t use his last words to burden Bones with his regrets and feelings. He’d been called a bastard and a womanizer and all kinds of jackass, but he would never be that cruel.

He staggered and fell, his communicator flying. He couldn’t stop the sound he made as broken bones moved and tore through already damaged tissue, but that was alright. There was no one around to hear him.

He tried to force himself up, tried to make his arms and legs obey him. He didn’t know if they responded. He couldn’t feel them, couldn’t see anything at all.

_Bones._

The hounds were so very loud.

\--------

When he came to, he was in Sickbay, Bones’ face the first thing he saw.

Later, he would find out that they’d been able to pick up the signal from his communicator once it’d been out of range of the scrambler. They had triangulated his approximate position based on the trajectory and speed of the communicator’s flight and had transported up everything within a certain range of it. He wouldn’t comment on how risky that had been. He would know how lucky it was that they’d managed to beam him up, that they’d managed to beam him up whole even more.

Later, he would discover that they’d heard the Kafor hounds during his call, that part of one had been transported up with him. It would explain all the bites on his shoulder and arm.

Later, they would tell him that his information had allowed them to find several of the embedded terrorists. Not all of them. Two bombs had gone off, and although loss of life had been minimal in comparison to what it would have been, Jim would feel responsible for each of those casualties.

But that was for later. At that moment, all that mattered was that he was back on the Enterprise, that he was safe, that Bones was with him. And although Bones didn’t say anything, the look in his eyes and the fine trembling in his fingers as he clutched Jim’s hand told Jim everything he needed to know.


End file.
